


Choices

by dulcia_somnia



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: AU 3x04, F/F, Killing Eve (TV 2018) Season/Series 03, Killing Eve Season 3 Spoilers, aftermath of bus scene, eve visits barcelona
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dulcia_somnia/pseuds/dulcia_somnia
Summary: “Choices, Eve. It’s all about choices.”An alternative take on 3x04, in which Eve chooses to investigate a recent assassination rather than go to Poland.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in a long time! The season 3 finale of Killing Eve has me going crazy, so I've channeled that energy into this fic. Unsure about if I should continue this AU post 3x04, so let me know what you think in the comments. Hope you all enjoy the rest of the season! <3

_ Are you really serious about talking? - Niko _

Eve furrowed her eyebrows, zoning out a bit. Bear and Jamie were focused on the murder of a political agitator in Catalonia. “Okay, they’re similar,” Jamie remarked as he considered the 70s kill in Moscow. The photos of both kills were side by side, the Catalonia victim covered in paprika and the other covered in chalk.

“They’re not similar, they’re the same. Our current assassin clearly copied this killer, which means — ” Eve paused, looking down at the text again and clutching her phone a little tighter.

“What?”

Eve looked up. “Uh… who… whoever this killer was,” referring to the 1974 murder, “might lead us to the Twelve.” The chalk murder had been in the back of Eve’s mind for ages. That assassin certainly had style and the use of paprika in this apparent copy kill seemed to be a cheeky homage. Could Villanelle be copying this assassination to communicate with the original killer in some way?

Eve set her phone away and stared at the two faces captured on camera, dusted in different colors but with the same expression. Jamie pushed against her line of thinking. “This was over forty years ago, how are we supposed to find this person now?”

Eve ran her hands up her hair and untied the knot, letting the curls fall to her shoulders. Teasing out her hair a bit, Eve turned to exit the building and yelled, “I’ll be right back!” to her puzzled colleagues.

The smashed cake in the parking lot appeared as it did when Eve threw it off the roof and when Eve was staring at it blankly just earlier that morning. Some flies were exploring the dessert as she picked up the bakery box lying next to her present.

When Eve returned to the office, Bear was sitting alone at his desk, munching on a handful of cocoa puffs. Jamie was pacing back and forth in his office while talking to someone on the phone. Eve placed the cake box on Bear’s desk and found a free desk to use. “Bear, can you dig into recent orders placed at Dunn’s Bakery? It’s in Crouch End.” 

“For your cake? But you already know — ”

“Villanelle sent me the cake,” Eve explained. “Wherever she called from and whatever card she used could get us closer to the Twelve.”

Bear nodded slightly and took a closer look at the inside of the box as if he expected to see some indication of a cake order made by an assassin. Eve unlocked her phone and her text exchanges with Niko appeared, his last message unanswered.  _ Are you really serious about talking? _

Eve remembered visiting his childhood home in Poland. It was very remote and simple, a perfect place for Niko to process what he’s been through. His father was very sour with her during the visit and made it clear that he wasn’t fond of her marrying Niko, and reflecting on these last months, Eve could understand where Maciek was coming from. Niko went home and didn’t tell her for a reason. Maybe it would be a good thing to give him some more time before they talk. If Eve can start to uncover what’s going on with the Twelve, she may be in a better place herself to make amends with her husband.

Eve replied to the text assuring Niko that some time apart would be good for them and that they can meet after he has had more time to settle into life in Poland. As Bear applied his hacking skills into identifying the card Villanelle used to place the cake order, Eve started to search for any details on the 1974 Moscow kill. 

After encouraging Bear to illegally look into the few leads they have, Eve and Bear identified some foreign cards that were recently used for purchases at Dunn’s Bakery. According to a dodgy source, the gymnast kill appeared to be connected to Dasha Duzran, an Olympic gymnast who worked for the KGB.

Bear’s eyes skimmed over Dasha’s information on his phone and remarked, “Looks like Dasha’s working in Barcelona. She’s teaching wee kids to do roly polys and teddy bear rolls.”

Eve lets out a laugh and slides over in her chair to look over Bear’s shoulder. She referenced the list of foreign accounts used at the bakery and nearly knocked over the cocoa puff box as she stood up. “That’s it! This card was used in Barcelona. If it’s whoever copied Dasha’s chalk kill, identifying where they’re operating out of in Barcelona could be the key.”

As Eve gathered her things, Bear appeared skeptical but didn't stop her. She slipped on her bag and asked, “Could you keep me updated on where the card is being used from here on out? I’m going to go and see what I find.”

Bear looked even more concerned than when she threw out her underwear in his trash bin. “To Barcelona? It’s not safe to just go there without more — ”

“There’s no time to lose!” Eve tied up her hair into a knot and retaliated, “Kenny was murdered just as he started to uncover things about the Twelve. If we’re going to find out who killed him, this is the way.” Jamie stepped out of his office to inquire as to Eve’s sudden determination, and just as he was about to speak up, Eve was rushing out the door.

***

She broke an unstated MI6 rule. As Eve walked among picturesque Barcelona shops and cafes, effervescent under street lights, her phone buzzed with urgency. Carolyn had been trying to reach her, presumably to reprimand her for going after a lead alone in Spain. No one ever sends Carolyn to voicemail. Except now.

Eventually, Eve arrived at the address Bear identified. Some packages ordered under the card Villanelle had used at the bakery were delivered to this stunning apartment. The apartment building appeared older and far more ornate than the other buildings in the area. From what she could tell, the flat was empty. After checking her surroundings, Eve picked the door lock as quietly as she could. A shiver went down her spine as she pictured Villanelle waiting in the dark beyond the entrance.

The lock clicked and Eve slipped into the Spanish apartment. She took a deep breath and turned on her phone’s flashlight. Seeing the intricate detailing on the walls and the open space that lay in front of her, Eve regretted not having arrived earlier in the day to see all this in daylight with the surrounding views of Barcelona. Searching with the small tunnel of light from her phone for a light source, Eve flicked on a switch and the foyer was bathed in a golden glow. She walked ahead carefully and peeked into a larger room with a small dining table. Anyone in the apartment would surely have made themselves known at this point. Feeling a sense of unearned courage, Eve braced herself before asking aloud, “Hello?”

No response. Eve surveyed the walls near her for a light switch and found one near a vase of flowers to her right. A chandelier in the center of the room lit up and Eve gasped.  _ Chic as shit. _ The world would be immensely improved if MI6 put up its people in places like this. Columns running down from the high ceiling blocked off a section of the room with large windows. Eve recalled walking through the villa in Rome when time stood as still as the ruins around her and Villanelle. She set her bag down on the dining table and walked closer to the windows. Running her hand down one of the columns, Eve chuckled in awe of the thought of Villanelle considering this place home. Her small, cramped flat in New Malden seemed even smaller.

From the dining room light, Eve could pick out the edge of a bed in an adjoining room. She padded over to find a light, no longer afraid of someone hiding in the dark to get her. Eve smiled to herself slightly, seeing some familiar makeup supplies on Villanelle’s dresser. It looked like some materials were kept from her time in Paris, unless she bought everything new with her assassin money.

A beautifully adorned closet sat on the opposite end of the room. Eve opened the doors as if she were making a grand, theatrical entrance, with her arms open wide as she took in the sight of Villanelle’s wardrobe. Clothes of all sorts hung on the clothing rack, organized with more neutral colors on the left and a plethora of colors and prints on the right. Nothing immediately stood out to Eve until her eyes landed on a grey jacket, the shoulder padding of which protruded out further than the other pieces in the closet.

A grey vest and pants were hung along with the jacket and Eve recognized it as the suit that Villanelle wore on the bus in London. She couldn’t forget her smell or the cocky look in her eyes if she tried. Eve cradled the suit in her arms and sniffed the collar of the large jacket. There it was  — the heady aroma of rain and pine and spice. “What do I smell of to you?” Villanelle had asked.

Eve swallowed and bit her lip. This scent had clouded her mind as she scuffled with Villanelle and got manhandled to the back of the bus. The woodsy perfume had overwhelmed her while getting pinned down on a set of seats. Eve closed her eyes and saw those focused, yet void-like hazel eyes staring down at her. The softness of her lips, the surprise in her little moan as their lips met, and the smell of something wholly Villanelle on top of the intoxicating fragrance had driven Eve wild.

Eve frowned as she felt a small pang of pain on her forehead. The bruise had been improving since their encounter, but it was the last reminder she had of what happened since she left her apartment. But here was this suit, hanging up along with the outfits Villanelle puts together for her kills and adventures. Noticing a round bottle nestled in a box of scarves underneath the clothing rack, Eve put the suit back to get a closer look.

It was a small crystal bottle with a cap that looked like a pope’s hat. No label, but Eve suspicions of the scent were confirmed when the same earthy smell on the suit emanated strongly from the perfume stick under her nose. Villanelle must have purchased it before their meeting, but what could she have wanted with her? What was in her mind beyond a scent that Eve will never forget and a nonchalant greeting?

_ Admit it, Eve. You wish I was here. _

Eve closed the perfume bottle. It was powerful enough to start a minor headache and she was already overwhelmed by being reminded of what had transpired on that bus. She went back out to the dining room and searched through her bag. Eve pulled out the red heart in which Villanelle had recorded her message. When Eve had left her apartment, she took some essentials and couldn’t bring herself to leave it behind.

Returning to the bedroom, Eve set the heart on top of the scarves and, in exchange, set Villanelle’s perfume bottle away in her bag. The apartment was so silent, Eve could hear a clock tick in a nearby room. Closing the closet, Eve sunk to the ground and pulled her knees close to her chest. Here, in this extravagant apartment, Eve somehow felt as she did in her one-bedroom flat. Completely alone and removed from the life she had known.

_ Yes... yes, I wish you were here. _


End file.
